Man, I am so glad God watches out for us. Our visiting medical team got stuck in the same mudhole in the same bus three time in three days. The second day was only a small inconvenience but the first one happened in the dark and by the time we got it out I had gotten the landcruiser stuck twice, torn two out of three engine belts, lost a belt tension pully and we all got covered in mud. But I learned a lot about how to unstick a stuck bus in Uganda.
First you gather nearly everyone in the village and have them all shout directions at one time. For this part to work properly it is best to have half of the village confuse the front for the back of the bus and the other half just be confused in general. Also not knowing right from left helps add to the fun. Another apparent requirement to unstick a stuck bus is to throw as many bushes as you can fit, under, in front and behind the drive wheels. It seemingly helps to have more obstacles to battle than just the mud. Then get you must get all parties to agree on the next step. That is: which direction are we pushing the bus? For added fun and more serious mud time, neglect this step. The sad part is that no matter how hard you try you cannot out push the half of the village that is always pushing the wrong direction. I've tried!
Now that you've done the most obvious things get everyone to calm down and pray. And voila! The bus as they say, "Sheee become unstuck!"
Now having perfected the procedure try it again in the daylight in the same hole. Not only will all the rules change but you'll also be able to see just how stuck you are and just how covered in mud you personally have become. Then you know that only God is gonna get you out. This causes a more earnest prayer from the heart. Then God does indeed get you unstuck. Just remember God has a purpose for mudholes. Many times it is to drive us to are muddy knees to seek his help.
The third day while the bus was getting stuck I was fixing the broken engine belts. Having put in the new ones I was going back to the mud (don't even think about telling me about a washed sow returning to the mud) when God showed me His great hand of protection.
As I approached a spot where traffic officers always sit I made sure I was traveling under 80 kph. A van was coming the opposite way. Suddenly a motorcycle hidden behind the van swerved into my lane to overtake the van. All I could do was swerve hard left. I heard a sickening thud but just as I veered left there on the side of the road were two women and a child on a bicycle. I swerved hard right knowing they would be dead in a millisecond. But this time no thud. Somehow God protected them and me. I pulled over and ran to the motorcycle knowing they must be seriously dead. I waved for the traffic policeman to come. But miraculously the driver was fine, the two year old was only scraped on the side of his head, and the mom had some painful road rash on one arm. God had protected us from serious harm.
Then the legal process started but God was in this too. The taxi had stopped and the driver and conductor told the motorcycle rider that he was lying when he told the traffic officer I hit him. The officer was also the Officer in Charge for Traffic of Soroti District. Who saw the whole thing. I was free to go unstick the stuck bus and eventually with God's help we did.
Thank you Jesus! For saving us and protecting us always!
Saturday, August 20, 2011
Sunday, August 7, 2011
Drip, drip, drip and more drip
The last time I wrote it was about the long dark African night. It was one of a series of nights I had with malaria that I could not get rid of. After two months of slowly getting sicker my body was giving up. Every other night was high fever, chills, sweats. backache, bodyache, headache.
Due too the meds I take for P.D. (parking zones disease) and the the disease itself, I can have some really crazy dreams and strange nights but those nights with malaria, I thought the morning would never come. Eventually I did get Steven to take me to the hospital at Rippon Clinic. After a blood sample showed malaria I was escorted to the private suite at the back of the clinic. It is a private suite since it has its own toilet that only I, the nurses, the doctors and the few dozen people I was too weak to fight off could use. There I lay for two days on quinine drip.
But I did have it better than Bev who slept on the floor for two nights. She did have a mattress from home though. And sheets. I don't think I would have made it without her. No more drip, drip, drip...
So what did I learn from the experience? Apparently nothing for as soon as I could get back to work I did.
I have become a work freak. I cannot sit still. If there is no class to teach I write a sermon. If there is no sermon to prepare I counsel. If there is no one to counsel I fix things. In Africa there is always something to fix. So there is always work. This week two water heaters failed. So I have to fix them. But parts aren't available so I have to make parts. It can wear you down and lay you out. And put you back on drip, drip, drip and more drip.
But God has His way to teach us. At the monthly missionary fellowship the host, Dan, shared about the way we missionaries overwork. We lead but never follow. But if we don't follow then who are we leading people to? It convicted me that I am getting people to follow me but not teaching them to follow Jesus Christ. I need to get back on drip. But I need more than drip I need streams of drip. Rivers of living water flowing from the Spirit into me and then to others. But I have a problem. Maybe you have it to. I seem to think that just because I have drunk the living water and I never thirst that I don't need to drink anymore. That condition can lead to dehydration. The Spirit causes water to well up within me but I also need to partake. I can get so full of streams of water flowing to others that I never stop to let it keep me satisfied. I am not a theologian so don't take this analogy too far but if the man who drives the water tanker doesn't fill the radiator of the truck sometime, the engine will overheat and the tanker dies and no one gets the water.
Lord help me to be refreshed and filled. Not drip by drip by more drip but by streams and rivers of the water of life, YOU!
Due too the meds I take for P.D. (parking zones disease) and the the disease itself, I can have some really crazy dreams and strange nights but those nights with malaria, I thought the morning would never come. Eventually I did get Steven to take me to the hospital at Rippon Clinic. After a blood sample showed malaria I was escorted to the private suite at the back of the clinic. It is a private suite since it has its own toilet that only I, the nurses, the doctors and the few dozen people I was too weak to fight off could use. There I lay for two days on quinine drip.
But I did have it better than Bev who slept on the floor for two nights. She did have a mattress from home though. And sheets. I don't think I would have made it without her. No more drip, drip, drip...
So what did I learn from the experience? Apparently nothing for as soon as I could get back to work I did.
I have become a work freak. I cannot sit still. If there is no class to teach I write a sermon. If there is no sermon to prepare I counsel. If there is no one to counsel I fix things. In Africa there is always something to fix. So there is always work. This week two water heaters failed. So I have to fix them. But parts aren't available so I have to make parts. It can wear you down and lay you out. And put you back on drip, drip, drip and more drip.
But God has His way to teach us. At the monthly missionary fellowship the host, Dan, shared about the way we missionaries overwork. We lead but never follow. But if we don't follow then who are we leading people to? It convicted me that I am getting people to follow me but not teaching them to follow Jesus Christ. I need to get back on drip. But I need more than drip I need streams of drip. Rivers of living water flowing from the Spirit into me and then to others. But I have a problem. Maybe you have it to. I seem to think that just because I have drunk the living water and I never thirst that I don't need to drink anymore. That condition can lead to dehydration. The Spirit causes water to well up within me but I also need to partake. I can get so full of streams of water flowing to others that I never stop to let it keep me satisfied. I am not a theologian so don't take this analogy too far but if the man who drives the water tanker doesn't fill the radiator of the truck sometime, the engine will overheat and the tanker dies and no one gets the water.
Lord help me to be refreshed and filled. Not drip by drip by more drip but by streams and rivers of the water of life, YOU!
Sunday, July 10, 2011
The Long Dark African Night
One of the things that a westerner notices when they come to Africa is how dark it is at night. There are no lights. In Jinja we have power all the time but it still is dark compared to Europe and North America. Vehicle headights never seem bright enough to do the job. Security lights don't penetrate but a few feet and in the village you had better have a good idea where you are and where your stuff is because there are only kerosene lamps to illuminate your night.
And when the night is long it can really bring despair.
In areas near the Nile River or Lake Victoria people are afraid to go out at night due to crocodiles. People have been eaten as they stepped out of their houses into the dark heading for the latrine to ease themselves. The long dark African night favors the wildlife so people stay locked in.
For some the long dark night is due to the thieves outside. Estimates for Uganda indicate 80% of young people are unemployed and many are turning to crime to make a living. If you are the average town dweller you don't venture out on foot after 10:00pm. This past Tuesday, the night guard for the compound two doors up from us was attacked with a panga, receiving serious head wounds. Meanwhile a suspected thief was killed two blocks from the church. No one is sure if he was a thief or not but it is another reason to stay indoors after dark so you don't get killed.
Many struggle in the night to keep their children safe from ritual killings called for by the traditional healer (witchdoctor) who has been hired to make someone wealthy or fertile or to get a spouse. It has gotten to the point that adults are often killed when no suitable child can be found. And what of the kids who have no adult to protect them. How long is their night?
For others the long night is because of the poor living conditions. Poor workmanship or lack of materials cause many to huddle into a corner of the house when it rains trying to keep themselves and their children warm and dry. That makes for a very long night. The same construction problems cause families to live with no protection against the mosquitoes that carry malaria and other diseases.
But perhaps the worst are those who face the darkness during illness. Living in Jinja we am blessed that we can get into our vehicle and get to a clinic in five minutes. People in the village cannot. If a man's wife or child falls very sick the best he can do is put the sick person on a bicycle and walk them five to twenty kilometers to get treatment. Saturday, the newspaper had a picture of a man crying out to passersby as he tried to lift his wife up off the ground. He had already carried her 5 kilometers and had seven more to go to reach medical care. This was in the daylight. What if it was at night? Who could or would help him. What is his level of despair? Where is his hope? Where is the hope for all those who face the long dark African night?
The solution to the long dark African night is light. The light of God's word. The light of Jesus, the Light of the world. Without His light nothing works. The despair in the African night grows and overwhelms without an end in sight. But God in his wisdom puts His children at the point where the light meets the dark.
Friday aternoon I went with the SOM students to a deliverance conference. There were 1500-2000 born again believers there. The name of Jesus was spoken and proclaimed many times but His word was never shared. At one point the speaker had the crowd repeat the name of Jesus 15 times and by doing so the people would receive the miracle they had come for. As I thought about it it occurred to me that they could have been shouting any name. It really didn't matter to them as long as they received their miracle of fertility, wealth, health and abundance. Yet the miracle they truly needed, a relationship with the Son of God, was never offered to them. The main teachers each drove up in successively more expensive vehicles. They would not leave their air-conditioned vehicles until it was time to take the stage. Their desire to be praised by men but at the same time giving no comfort to them was appalling.
2Corinthians 1:3-7 "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort."
Whether it is through the Gospel of Jesus Christ, through His protection or His provision, we need to comfort those in the long dark night with the comfort we have received from Him. People are in trouble, am I offering any comfort or hope? Am I giving those around me what Jesus died to give us all? Hope that He has done away with the penalty of sin for those who believe? Hope that He protects us from evil? Hope that He moves His people to be there for others?
Father God, thank you for taking us out of the darkness and into your light. Let our light shine in the darkness as well, easing the despair and hopelessness of those who long for the dawning of your light in their life. Amen
And when the night is long it can really bring despair.
In areas near the Nile River or Lake Victoria people are afraid to go out at night due to crocodiles. People have been eaten as they stepped out of their houses into the dark heading for the latrine to ease themselves. The long dark African night favors the wildlife so people stay locked in.
For some the long dark night is due to the thieves outside. Estimates for Uganda indicate 80% of young people are unemployed and many are turning to crime to make a living. If you are the average town dweller you don't venture out on foot after 10:00pm. This past Tuesday, the night guard for the compound two doors up from us was attacked with a panga, receiving serious head wounds. Meanwhile a suspected thief was killed two blocks from the church. No one is sure if he was a thief or not but it is another reason to stay indoors after dark so you don't get killed.
Many struggle in the night to keep their children safe from ritual killings called for by the traditional healer (witchdoctor) who has been hired to make someone wealthy or fertile or to get a spouse. It has gotten to the point that adults are often killed when no suitable child can be found. And what of the kids who have no adult to protect them. How long is their night?
For others the long night is because of the poor living conditions. Poor workmanship or lack of materials cause many to huddle into a corner of the house when it rains trying to keep themselves and their children warm and dry. That makes for a very long night. The same construction problems cause families to live with no protection against the mosquitoes that carry malaria and other diseases.
But perhaps the worst are those who face the darkness during illness. Living in Jinja we am blessed that we can get into our vehicle and get to a clinic in five minutes. People in the village cannot. If a man's wife or child falls very sick the best he can do is put the sick person on a bicycle and walk them five to twenty kilometers to get treatment. Saturday, the newspaper had a picture of a man crying out to passersby as he tried to lift his wife up off the ground. He had already carried her 5 kilometers and had seven more to go to reach medical care. This was in the daylight. What if it was at night? Who could or would help him. What is his level of despair? Where is his hope? Where is the hope for all those who face the long dark African night?
The solution to the long dark African night is light. The light of God's word. The light of Jesus, the Light of the world. Without His light nothing works. The despair in the African night grows and overwhelms without an end in sight. But God in his wisdom puts His children at the point where the light meets the dark.
Friday aternoon I went with the SOM students to a deliverance conference. There were 1500-2000 born again believers there. The name of Jesus was spoken and proclaimed many times but His word was never shared. At one point the speaker had the crowd repeat the name of Jesus 15 times and by doing so the people would receive the miracle they had come for. As I thought about it it occurred to me that they could have been shouting any name. It really didn't matter to them as long as they received their miracle of fertility, wealth, health and abundance. Yet the miracle they truly needed, a relationship with the Son of God, was never offered to them. The main teachers each drove up in successively more expensive vehicles. They would not leave their air-conditioned vehicles until it was time to take the stage. Their desire to be praised by men but at the same time giving no comfort to them was appalling.
2Corinthians 1:3-7 "Praise be to the God and Father of our Lord Jesus Christ, The Father of compassion and the God of all comfort, who comforts us in all our troubles, so that we can comfort those in any trouble with the comfort we ourselves have received from God. For just as the sufferings of Christ overflow into our lives, so also through Christ our comfort overflows. If we are distressed it is for your comfort and salvation; if we are comforted it is for your comfort, which produces in you patient endurance of the same sufferings we suffer. And our hope for you is firm because we know that just as you share in our sufferings, so also you share in our comfort."
Whether it is through the Gospel of Jesus Christ, through His protection or His provision, we need to comfort those in the long dark night with the comfort we have received from Him. People are in trouble, am I offering any comfort or hope? Am I giving those around me what Jesus died to give us all? Hope that He has done away with the penalty of sin for those who believe? Hope that He protects us from evil? Hope that He moves His people to be there for others?
Father God, thank you for taking us out of the darkness and into your light. Let our light shine in the darkness as well, easing the despair and hopelessness of those who long for the dawning of your light in their life. Amen
Monday, July 4, 2011
The Great Jinja July 4th Bake Off
The time was just past noon when the competition began.
As I had decided to make a cake for Julie, whose birthday is the 4th of July, I began gathering the necessary ingredients. The recipe looked simple enough. I could do this in my sleep, or so I thought. Flour, sugar, eggs, shortening, vanilla, cocoa powder, and baking powder. Is that the same as baking soda or are they different? Bev let out a groan and said "No, the powder is upper shelf that's soda in your hand." I mumbled something akin to "Thanks" but my mind was already going back to my daughter's 19th birtday. That was the last time I had made a cake from scratch. The mind still recoils at the memory of the mess I made. Did you know that two tablespoons of baking powder go a lot farther than the two teaspoons the recipe called for. Did you also know that overly agitated German choclate cake batter was used by Atilla the hun as armor? At least I'm sure it could have been after trying to scrape it off the oven walls and bottom. But hey, that was 18 years ago surely oven cleaning techniques have improved, I hoped.
Pressing onward I began to make the batter. Looked pretty good and as I began to add the baking powder low & behold the recipe had changed to baking soda. Someone ought to tell these cookbook publishers that they need to issue better updates rather than just changing ingredients when the baker is not looking. But clever fellow that I am I caught the problem in time and made the switch.
As I was just putting the pans in the oven Kelli came in the kitchen. Eyeing her suspiciously I asked "Whas up?" Her response was "Oh, I'm making cookies to take to the Davises."
You must understand that Kelli, Bev and I have a contest to see who is the least coordinated. Last night Kelli and I fought to a 3-3 draw on dings in the walls moving furniture. Kelli being in the kitchen at the same time as me was a definite threat to cleanliness and well being of the compound as well as to my title of King Klutz. Feeling the pressure to drop the cake pans for an easy win I forced them into the oven checked my watch and set off to read for 30-35 minutes or until my toothpick was dry.
About 20 minutes later Kelli asked," Uh, Jess, did you want the oven off or on?"
"I turned it on ," I said. "But it's not hot." Man, it's those little things that get you!
Turning it on I decide it was time to make the frosting. As Kelli had cookie dough in the mixmaster I chose to use a whip for my topping.
What snow in Jinja in June? No, it is icing sugar! Apparently you have to start real slow with the whip. But I soon had the technique mastered and before long the cakes were done and ready to frost. I'd estimate that 90% of the icing was used to fill the two craters that were my fallen cakes. But in the end they looked nice. And I knew it was envy that caused Kelli to suggest I use on of her cookies to fill in the flat spot in the side of the cake. I assured her it was a planned design so that the christmas tree... I mean cake could sit closer to the wall. (yeah like you never use that excuse)
Clean up took roughly 1 and 1/2 hours. But it was an opportunity to be a man of integrity. Under my cookbook I found Kelli's top secret chocolate chip cookie recipe. As it is widely known that this receipe makes the best cookies in the world I was holding a goldmine in my hand. Look out "Famous Amos", "Jess the Mess" is in town! Then I thought what would happen to her when the Wee Little People (not the Keebler Elves or the Irish mafia) came calling. All the kids on the compound would be heartbroken. No free cookies! So I gave the receipe back. I cleaned the kitchen with a greater enthusiam knowing I had done the right thing. Who cares about baking anyway. As Bev says,"You may not cook but you wash the best dishes in town!" "Don't leave spots on the spoons."
As I had decided to make a cake for Julie, whose birthday is the 4th of July, I began gathering the necessary ingredients. The recipe looked simple enough. I could do this in my sleep, or so I thought. Flour, sugar, eggs, shortening, vanilla, cocoa powder, and baking powder. Is that the same as baking soda or are they different? Bev let out a groan and said "No, the powder is upper shelf that's soda in your hand." I mumbled something akin to "Thanks" but my mind was already going back to my daughter's 19th birtday. That was the last time I had made a cake from scratch. The mind still recoils at the memory of the mess I made. Did you know that two tablespoons of baking powder go a lot farther than the two teaspoons the recipe called for. Did you also know that overly agitated German choclate cake batter was used by Atilla the hun as armor? At least I'm sure it could have been after trying to scrape it off the oven walls and bottom. But hey, that was 18 years ago surely oven cleaning techniques have improved, I hoped.
Pressing onward I began to make the batter. Looked pretty good and as I began to add the baking powder low & behold the recipe had changed to baking soda. Someone ought to tell these cookbook publishers that they need to issue better updates rather than just changing ingredients when the baker is not looking. But clever fellow that I am I caught the problem in time and made the switch.
As I was just putting the pans in the oven Kelli came in the kitchen. Eyeing her suspiciously I asked "Whas up?" Her response was "Oh, I'm making cookies to take to the Davises."
You must understand that Kelli, Bev and I have a contest to see who is the least coordinated. Last night Kelli and I fought to a 3-3 draw on dings in the walls moving furniture. Kelli being in the kitchen at the same time as me was a definite threat to cleanliness and well being of the compound as well as to my title of King Klutz. Feeling the pressure to drop the cake pans for an easy win I forced them into the oven checked my watch and set off to read for 30-35 minutes or until my toothpick was dry.
About 20 minutes later Kelli asked," Uh, Jess, did you want the oven off or on?"
"I turned it on ," I said. "But it's not hot." Man, it's those little things that get you!
Turning it on I decide it was time to make the frosting. As Kelli had cookie dough in the mixmaster I chose to use a whip for my topping.
What snow in Jinja in June? No, it is icing sugar! Apparently you have to start real slow with the whip. But I soon had the technique mastered and before long the cakes were done and ready to frost. I'd estimate that 90% of the icing was used to fill the two craters that were my fallen cakes. But in the end they looked nice. And I knew it was envy that caused Kelli to suggest I use on of her cookies to fill in the flat spot in the side of the cake. I assured her it was a planned design so that the christmas tree... I mean cake could sit closer to the wall. (yeah like you never use that excuse)
Clean up took roughly 1 and 1/2 hours. But it was an opportunity to be a man of integrity. Under my cookbook I found Kelli's top secret chocolate chip cookie recipe. As it is widely known that this receipe makes the best cookies in the world I was holding a goldmine in my hand. Look out "Famous Amos", "Jess the Mess" is in town! Then I thought what would happen to her when the Wee Little People (not the Keebler Elves or the Irish mafia) came calling. All the kids on the compound would be heartbroken. No free cookies! So I gave the receipe back. I cleaned the kitchen with a greater enthusiam knowing I had done the right thing. Who cares about baking anyway. As Bev says,"You may not cook but you wash the best dishes in town!" "Don't leave spots on the spoons."
Friday, July 1, 2011
Lost on the Way to the Burial or What's Your Point?
Grace and his wife Patricia are two people I just can't help but love. Grace is a SOM student and a secondary school teacher. Tall and quiet he is an excellent example of how we believers should behave. Yesterday we buried Grace's father. It's not very funny really. Cypriano died of tetanus while suffering from cancer. But this story is about what happened on the way to the village.
We were supposed to be there by midday but we didn't leave till 12:30. We were waiting for those who wanted a ride on the bus we rented. When we finally left we had to come back because we had forgotten the speaker system. Well, not we but me. The PA system is why we were supposed to go early as the burial could not begin until the sound system was set up.
By 1:00 pm we had traveled the first 36 k's and all went well. Then we got onto the dirt road. In twenty minutes we would be there, a bit later than planned but still early for the 2:00pm burial. But after a long 1 & 1/2 hour drive the passengers on the bus mutinied. As we stopped to ask for directions, fingers started pointing in every direction. "I know where we are! We need to go that way!" While others with their fingers pointed said "I knew we'd get lost!" This was quite amusing since no one voiced that opinion until after it was found to be true that we were hopelessly lost.
My personal feeling was that since this dirt road was wide and smooth, I'd rather be lost and moving on a good road than be stuck, broken down or bounced into oblivion on a bad road, even if I knew where I was. The truth is there are not that many good dirt roads around here so the wise man stays on the good road, forgets the burial and enjoys the ride.
No one else seemed to share my viewpoint. Can't imagine why. But having gotten directions from a passing seven year old who had probably never been outside his village, we took off again in a cloud of dust. We may have been lost but there was no point in being late! At the next crossroads we did better. This kid was probably 9years old but what sold us was the way he said, "I know where I am. Do you?" Good point! Following his precise directions, "Just there" (and asking everyone in sight)we arrived promptly at 3:00 pm. Only three hours behind schedule. The rest was easy.
With the exception of the thirty-five minute down pour, I just read my Bible as the service was in Lusoga with no translation. I kept my mouth shut since I only know how to say, "How are you?" and "Bye" and neither one seemed good. Cypriano obviously wasn't well as was evidenced by his being in a coffin and he probably wasn't going to say farewell either!
The ride home was uneventful. I even made it home for dinner.
All fun aside, we went to the burial to honor our friend Grace. The more friends he has attend the greater he is valued in his village. And even greater still is the honor given to his father, who raised a son who is so loved that these people would come to honor the father through the son. Sounds just like our heavenly Father and our friend Jesus. Father God, let us always give you glory through your son, Jesus Christ!
We were supposed to be there by midday but we didn't leave till 12:30. We were waiting for those who wanted a ride on the bus we rented. When we finally left we had to come back because we had forgotten the speaker system. Well, not we but me. The PA system is why we were supposed to go early as the burial could not begin until the sound system was set up.
By 1:00 pm we had traveled the first 36 k's and all went well. Then we got onto the dirt road. In twenty minutes we would be there, a bit later than planned but still early for the 2:00pm burial. But after a long 1 & 1/2 hour drive the passengers on the bus mutinied. As we stopped to ask for directions, fingers started pointing in every direction. "I know where we are! We need to go that way!" While others with their fingers pointed said "I knew we'd get lost!" This was quite amusing since no one voiced that opinion until after it was found to be true that we were hopelessly lost.
My personal feeling was that since this dirt road was wide and smooth, I'd rather be lost and moving on a good road than be stuck, broken down or bounced into oblivion on a bad road, even if I knew where I was. The truth is there are not that many good dirt roads around here so the wise man stays on the good road, forgets the burial and enjoys the ride.
No one else seemed to share my viewpoint. Can't imagine why. But having gotten directions from a passing seven year old who had probably never been outside his village, we took off again in a cloud of dust. We may have been lost but there was no point in being late! At the next crossroads we did better. This kid was probably 9years old but what sold us was the way he said, "I know where I am. Do you?" Good point! Following his precise directions, "Just there" (and asking everyone in sight)we arrived promptly at 3:00 pm. Only three hours behind schedule. The rest was easy.
With the exception of the thirty-five minute down pour, I just read my Bible as the service was in Lusoga with no translation. I kept my mouth shut since I only know how to say, "How are you?" and "Bye" and neither one seemed good. Cypriano obviously wasn't well as was evidenced by his being in a coffin and he probably wasn't going to say farewell either!
The ride home was uneventful. I even made it home for dinner.
All fun aside, we went to the burial to honor our friend Grace. The more friends he has attend the greater he is valued in his village. And even greater still is the honor given to his father, who raised a son who is so loved that these people would come to honor the father through the son. Sounds just like our heavenly Father and our friend Jesus. Father God, let us always give you glory through your son, Jesus Christ!
Thursday, June 23, 2011
You Just Have to Trust God
Calvary Chapel Jinja has just hosted another Pastor Conference. The original plan was for a group of teachers to come from the States to lead this event. Unfortunately this didn't work out due to the high cost of airfare to get to Uganda. I hope we have another opportunity for them to come.
But God had a plan. Don't you love the words "But God..."? To me, they speak volumes about His sovereignty, power and plan that we don't anticipate. I had not anticipated being so sick on Monday plus having a major infection in my leg. But God did.
I asked Moro Steven if he could cover the majority of the discussion sessions and he did a great job. It has been good to watch this man mature over the last few months. But God didn't stop there. He enabled Craig Linquist fromm CC Entebbe to attend and he and Steven were just amazing. They taught and encouraged the pastors with wit and wisdom. It was quite a day.
But God had more in mind to do. Zane McCourtney from Kitgum arrived Monday night and when Craig left the next morning Zane took his place. How foolish it made feel to remember that I had been worried about the teachings. These guys were being led and filled by the Holy Sprit.
That afternoon Isaac Wooton arrived from CC Fort Portal and again God spoke through him to urge the men to let go of the traditions of men. It was as if God wanted to tell me that He was running the conference His way and not mine. Needless to say the conference turned out to be one of the best.
It has been such a wonderful experience to witness the Ugandan pastors and students grow. Praise the Lord for His work in all these brothers' lives.
But God had a plan. Don't you love the words "But God..."? To me, they speak volumes about His sovereignty, power and plan that we don't anticipate. I had not anticipated being so sick on Monday plus having a major infection in my leg. But God did.
I asked Moro Steven if he could cover the majority of the discussion sessions and he did a great job. It has been good to watch this man mature over the last few months. But God didn't stop there. He enabled Craig Linquist fromm CC Entebbe to attend and he and Steven were just amazing. They taught and encouraged the pastors with wit and wisdom. It was quite a day.
But God had more in mind to do. Zane McCourtney from Kitgum arrived Monday night and when Craig left the next morning Zane took his place. How foolish it made feel to remember that I had been worried about the teachings. These guys were being led and filled by the Holy Sprit.
That afternoon Isaac Wooton arrived from CC Fort Portal and again God spoke through him to urge the men to let go of the traditions of men. It was as if God wanted to tell me that He was running the conference His way and not mine. Needless to say the conference turned out to be one of the best.
It has been such a wonderful experience to witness the Ugandan pastors and students grow. Praise the Lord for His work in all these brothers' lives.
Wednesday, June 22, 2011
The Body and All Its Parts
The apostle Paul wrote to the Corinthian church about the importance of the church being a fully functioning body. Every body part must do its work in order for the rest of the body to survive. God has been teaching me this truth first hand for the last month.
As I mentioned in my last blog we were blessed with a team from Colorado who came for a week to rebuid the roof on the Calvary Chapel Health Centre in Ogongora, Amuria District. They did a great job of witnessing the love of Christ to the residents of Ogongora and the patients in the health center. However they did face a bit of discouragement at the lack of participation in the project by the community.
Since their departure I have spent 13 days in Ogongora trying to move the project along. I too was a bit frustrated at the apparent lack of interest by the community in helping with the project. But this past week I learned some important lessons.
Lesson # 1: Let the body function in its proper way.
As we have worked to get the clinic back to running condition we have been doing some skilled work. Not me personally. I have no real constuction skills. My swinging a hammer 10 times produces three lost nails (two steelnails and one thumbnail), four dents in the iron sheet roof, two bent nails bent beyond use, and someone falling from a ladder. But even this is beyond the ability of the average villager. They do not have access to tools so they cannot do the work and are afraid to hinder the work. So they let the parts of the body that can do this work do it!
Lesson # 2: Let the body function in its proper time.
As we have toiled we have started early everyday trying to make the most progress and demonstrate a good work ethic. When no one would come join in, it was almost like a slap in the face. That was my pride reacting to no one telling me what a great job I was doing. The reason no one was coming was simple. In the village the a.m. hours are for digging. If you don't dig you have no crop. No crop means no food and that means starvation. When one family goes hungry it affects the whole village. So the proper function of the body is to show up when the digging is done. When the people would come in the afternoon and politly wait to be invited to work this Mzungu would miss the opportunity and they would wander away one by one. By not letting the body funtion in its time I was actually denying the body the right to help and build itself up.
Lesson # 3: We must know what body part we are.
This past week while in the village I was taken ill on Tuesday just after leaving on the 50 kilometer drive to Soroti to get cement and other supplies. I was so sick that after wandering aimlessly in town for two hours I returned having completely forgotten the cement. I was sick and useless for two days. But it didn't stop me from attempting to work and thus slowing down any progress. By Thursday night I was in emotional and spiritual meltdown mode. Nothing was going the way I had planned it. But a call from a dear brother in America, Neil, helped get things back together.
I'm not called here to be a construction guy but to be a spiritual leader. So the next morning we went to the clinic and prayed for every person there. Patients, attendants, staff, families, everybody. Suddenly what had been a very difficult week was now a blessing.
Lesson # 4: The members of the universal body of Christ work in the local body.
Having heard that I had fallen sick, Bev sent word to the greater unseen body (you) asking for prayer. God heard those prayers and got me home safe and well. But then Saturday I fell sick again. It was not malaria but some sort of infection. Receiving treatmet Sunday we then noticed that a scratch on my leg had become terribly infected. The body went to work again and I am happy to tell you that the infection is getting healed. Thank you for praying and seeking help for a body part that has been learning slowly what it means to be a part of the great body of Jesus Christ.
A special thanks to Rich Tedesco, Grady Colby, Mark Caldwell and Richie Tedesco for their sacrificing their time and resources to help expand God's kingdom in Ogongera.
As I mentioned in my last blog we were blessed with a team from Colorado who came for a week to rebuid the roof on the Calvary Chapel Health Centre in Ogongora, Amuria District. They did a great job of witnessing the love of Christ to the residents of Ogongora and the patients in the health center. However they did face a bit of discouragement at the lack of participation in the project by the community.
Since their departure I have spent 13 days in Ogongora trying to move the project along. I too was a bit frustrated at the apparent lack of interest by the community in helping with the project. But this past week I learned some important lessons.
Lesson # 1: Let the body function in its proper way.
As we have worked to get the clinic back to running condition we have been doing some skilled work. Not me personally. I have no real constuction skills. My swinging a hammer 10 times produces three lost nails (two steelnails and one thumbnail), four dents in the iron sheet roof, two bent nails bent beyond use, and someone falling from a ladder. But even this is beyond the ability of the average villager. They do not have access to tools so they cannot do the work and are afraid to hinder the work. So they let the parts of the body that can do this work do it!
Lesson # 2: Let the body function in its proper time.
As we have toiled we have started early everyday trying to make the most progress and demonstrate a good work ethic. When no one would come join in, it was almost like a slap in the face. That was my pride reacting to no one telling me what a great job I was doing. The reason no one was coming was simple. In the village the a.m. hours are for digging. If you don't dig you have no crop. No crop means no food and that means starvation. When one family goes hungry it affects the whole village. So the proper function of the body is to show up when the digging is done. When the people would come in the afternoon and politly wait to be invited to work this Mzungu would miss the opportunity and they would wander away one by one. By not letting the body funtion in its time I was actually denying the body the right to help and build itself up.
Lesson # 3: We must know what body part we are.
This past week while in the village I was taken ill on Tuesday just after leaving on the 50 kilometer drive to Soroti to get cement and other supplies. I was so sick that after wandering aimlessly in town for two hours I returned having completely forgotten the cement. I was sick and useless for two days. But it didn't stop me from attempting to work and thus slowing down any progress. By Thursday night I was in emotional and spiritual meltdown mode. Nothing was going the way I had planned it. But a call from a dear brother in America, Neil, helped get things back together.
I'm not called here to be a construction guy but to be a spiritual leader. So the next morning we went to the clinic and prayed for every person there. Patients, attendants, staff, families, everybody. Suddenly what had been a very difficult week was now a blessing.
Lesson # 4: The members of the universal body of Christ work in the local body.
Having heard that I had fallen sick, Bev sent word to the greater unseen body (you) asking for prayer. God heard those prayers and got me home safe and well. But then Saturday I fell sick again. It was not malaria but some sort of infection. Receiving treatmet Sunday we then noticed that a scratch on my leg had become terribly infected. The body went to work again and I am happy to tell you that the infection is getting healed. Thank you for praying and seeking help for a body part that has been learning slowly what it means to be a part of the great body of Jesus Christ.
A special thanks to Rich Tedesco, Grady Colby, Mark Caldwell and Richie Tedesco for their sacrificing their time and resources to help expand God's kingdom in Ogongera.
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